Shot down like a bullet. There’s a girl in my shower two nights in a row now. She’s got great big tits and she keeps screaming my name. Like a did something wrong. Every night she shoots me down like a bullet. I wish I could get you out of here. I wish…
Tag: poetry
A Mug full of Muggling
The ticket stabber Wants to Make Friends. Sitting swimming Mouths open, taking Starving Chirping for chips. Stuff your fucking mouths. There’s a mortal moment, everyone will know very intimately, whether it was worth it. This shift is turning into a hostage crisis. We’re all going to die. I’m a shitty negotiator.
The Unlucky
The Unlucky are discovered. Just in time. They do not go gentle into any night, or morning or day. Their bodies are covered. With hospital blankets and unpayable bills. All of you, the doctors will eventually get you. Then it’s ICU beds and hoses and waiting rooms. Loss of life, ahhhh, but first. Loss of…
The Hostess Stand Stanzas
That smiling face… whether you deign to speak at it or not, there’s a thousand razor-sharp barbs behind those little teeth. Those dull little eyes hold a vocabulary that would surprise. Oh, shit, she’s capable of more than a, “Table for two?” Her mind wanders as your eyes rove- oh she’s got an opinion of…
Molly Malone
Molly Malone grew up in La Grange. She was a young lovely girl raised free-range. Until she was seventeen, and three men came to the farm at La Grange. But she felt no alarm even as they took away Dad and dear old Mom. Oh, and she did sing, Oh her voice did ring, Molly…
surrounded by Men
Piece of incredibly short writing that didn’t make the finals of a contest. Hope you enjoy it, or don’t, more than they did. I thought it was rather clever. Everyone dies in the blink of an eye. My mother died in a typical way. The method of murder, you see, was me.
Please burn this Sweater
I met you at an ugly Christmas sweater party You wore a black dress in protest, I don’t recall what I wore at all. But I’m not cool enough to protest Christmas I bet youre the kind who leaves their christmas lights up Hey you, do you? Some people think that’s lazy But I prefer…
Flooded
I am not the writer I am the words Words like ganglion And abnegate And mustang I am the words Lovely as spillage from overwrought syllables Whatever dialectical crime you might commit Caress me I am the words Poetry essays short stories novels Color sound taste and texture I’ll tell you about these things No,…
1003 Thoughts
Last in a series. It’s been a long year and we’ve all heard a lot of things we could’ve done without. Some times they come crashing down on you when you least expect it and you’re left scrambling, trying to figure out where scribble it down so you don’t forget. Sometimes the only place to…
1002 Thoughts
I couldn’t decide where the line between the poems written on the program were so I just divvied them up later. Here’s one, or hell, maybe two: “There are two different poems here,” I reflected. “But I’m not sure which is which and what the other one is all about.” Approach the ranks…